I went looking for a cat with a friend on Valentine's Day. It was heartbreaking, all those cats with no home to go to. This is the poem that emerged from that day.
It's not the cages
you see
at first
it's the eyes
hopeful eyes
a paw poking out of the cage
indifference
yearning
for a home
for love.
As black as a shorthair kitten
mortality,
hovering in the wings
the angel of death.
Why does it hurt so bad?
To turn my back
on claws and whiskers, tails and golden eyes.
Why does it hurt so much?
Am I turning my back
on love
on you?
I can feel the pain below
and smell the shit and piss
and see the bars
and see the locks.
Where is my freedom?
Will you come?
Before another special day
goes by.
Before death
walks by.
02/15/07
© 2007 Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 644 times
Written on 2007-06-25 at 01:55
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February 14th
It's not the cages
you see
at first
it's the eyes
hopeful eyes
a paw poking out of the cage
indifference
yearning
for a home
for love.
As black as a shorthair kitten
mortality,
hovering in the wings
the angel of death.
Why does it hurt so bad?
To turn my back
on claws and whiskers, tails and golden eyes.
Why does it hurt so much?
Am I turning my back
on love
on you?
I can feel the pain below
and smell the shit and piss
and see the bars
and see the locks.
Where is my freedom?
Will you come?
Before another special day
goes by.
Before death
walks by.
02/15/07
© 2007 Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 644 times
Written on 2007-06-25 at 01:55
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
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